He Saved A Spot For Her, Leaving No Room For Me Chapter 01

He Saved A Spot For Her, Leaving No Room For Me Chapter 01

I was stopped at the Costco entrance while shopping for supplies for our new place.

Ethan’s childhood friend Tessa scanned her card and walked right in—beep.

Three minutes later, she came back with a cart.

Her phone screen was still lit: Household Card.

Ethan said, matter-of-factly, “She shops for me a lot. It’s easier to have her on the account.”

Later I found out he knew Tessa drank low-sugar coconut water, was lactose-intolerant, and liked unscented laundry pods.

But he forgot everything we bought today was supposed to go into our house.

At checkout, the cashier asked, “Same receipt as usual, Ethan and Tessa?”

Tessa immediately looked at me. “Don’t get the wrong idea—I just come here more often.”

Ethan casually dropped a clearance cake into my arms. “Here. You’re good with money, right? Expired stuff doesn’t bother you.”

I looked at the cart.

The cookware was Tessa’s pick.

The bedding was her color.

Even the slippers were her size.

When we got to The Pines, Tessa raised her hand and unlocked the door with her fingerprint.

Ethan urged me, “What are you waiting for? Help Tessa carry things in.”

I suddenly laughed.

Turns out I was just a temporary guest in this wedding.

…

I didn’t take the box Tessa handed me.

Ethan frowned. “Iris, it’s heavy. Don’t be difficult.”

Tessa hugged the box and stepped back. “Ethan, I can handle it. Maybe Iris is upset I went in first.”

The more she played up the hurt, the shorter his temper got. “You’re basically family.”

The words slipped out, and he seemed to realize it. He turned to me. “The water filter guy came yesterday—needed to go in and out. I was in meetings, so Tessa supervised. The fingerprint was just for convenience.”

I looked at the lock screen.

User list: Ethan. Tessa.

Not Iris.

The year my mom died, Ethan held me and said, “I’ll give you a home where you never have to knock.”

But now I stood outside my own house, waiting for another woman to open the door for me.

Ethan pulled a room-temperature almond milk from the bag, twisted the cap, and handed it to me. “Your stomach’s bad. I didn’t get cold ones.”

He was always like this. Locking me out one second, handing me exactly what I needed the next.

I still didn’t take it.

Tessa quickly said, “Iris, I really didn’t know you hadn’t registered your fingerprint. If it bothers you, I’ll delete mine right now?”

Her finger touched the delete button, but Ethan stopped her. “Delete what? Iris isn’t that petty.”

I walked around them into the apartment.

Tessa’s white cardigan hung on the balcony.

On the nightstand in the master bedroom sat an old framed photo—Ethan as a kid with Tessa, two children under a tree, her hand gripping his sleeve.

I asked, “This got put in the master bedroom too?”

Tessa looked down. “The living room was too messy—I was afraid it’d get broken.”

Ethan immediately jumped in. “It’s just a photo.”

I smiled. “Right. Just a photo.”

I walked to the smart lock. “Register my fingerprint now.”

Ethan rubbed his forehead. “Iris, we’ve been at this all day. Can’t it wait until the housewarming?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I looked at him. “Because this is our house.”

The room went quiet.

Ethan’s voice dropped. “You’re really going to fight Tessa over this? She grew up with no one—she has zero sense of security. This place is close to her studio, she crashes here sometimes. You have me—what does she have?”

A chill ran through me.

I had him?

I didn’t even have this door.

I set the clearance cake on the dining table. “Ethan, let’s call off the wedding.”

His face changed, and he reached for me. “What are you saying? Iris, don’t use the wedding as a threat.”

I stepped back. “I’m not threatening. I just realized—if I can’t even get into my own house, what wedding am I walking into?”

Tessa suddenly gasped—a box edge had scratched her finger. Just a thin red line.

But Ethan turned immediately. “Don’t touch water. I’ll get the antiseptic wipes.”

I bought the first-aid kit.

I put the antiseptic wipes in.

I chose the hypoallergenic band-aids for his sensitive skin.

Now he was crouched in front of Tessa, murmuring, “Hold still, it’ll be quick.”

Tessa looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “Iris, don’t leave—Ethan will worry.”

I turned and left.

Just before the elevator doors closed, Ethan ran after me and shoved the almond milk into my hand. “Iris, I’ll come to you tonight. I’ll register your fingerprint. I’ll get you a household card. Whatever you want—I’ll give it.”

I asked him, “And Tessa?”

He was silent.

The elevator doors slid shut.

I saw the answer clearly.

He could give me everything.

Except the space Tessa occupied.